


The Trials and Tribulations of Courting of a Prince

by hariboo



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-15
Updated: 2011-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-23 18:24:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hariboo/pseuds/hariboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sif has learned that dating a prince she's supposed to be protecting is harder when that prince is Loki. (Modern Royal AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trials and Tribulations of Courting of a Prince

**Author's Note:**

> for [mekosuchinae](http://mekosuchinae.livejournal.com/) ; Mem likes makeouts so I gave her makeouts, with a side of feelings.

She pushed him against the wall, heard his head crack against. Neither stopped. Her fingers curled on his hips as he tilted her head back, his teeth pulling the flesh of her bottom lip. His hands were cold against the skin of her neck and back as they drifted down, curving over sharp jut of her shoulder blades her dress left revealed.

“Loki,” she breathed, trying to get closer. Her arms raised up to slip around his neck and she shifted her weight onto his.

One hand tangled in her hair while his other arm pulled her tight against him.

He made a small sound when she opened her mouth and sucked at his tongue that sent a rush of warmth down her spine.

“We must get back,” he mumbled against her skin, teeth and lips both hard and soft against her jaw. “They will be looking for us.”

Sif leaned back, grinning when she looked into his eyes, dark and blown wide with lust.

“No,” she ran her thumb over his bruised lips, “They will be looking for you. I’m just a lowly member of the court, lost in the shuffle and the glided hall. Who will look for the Lady Sif when they have princes to smile over?”

“While true,” Loki said, there was a thin curl to his lips that did not reflect in his eyes, “for most of the idiots in there, I fear, I feel the need to inform you that there will be several people who will miss seeing the Lady Sif’s scowl and dismissal all her those who ask for a dance.”

She frowned at the old nickname, but chose not to take that particular bait. “And who might these persons be? Would you be one, my prince?” She said, eyes on his.

His flashed at the title and she knew that her message had been sent.

“I was speaking more of my brother and the three buffoons you two call friends, but I would not exclude myself from that list.” He spoke softly. His hand curved at her jaw. Sif fought not to turn her head and press at a kiss at the thin skin on his wrist where his veins stood out a pale blue. She settled for reaching up and straightening the collar of his suit and smoothing his hair back in place. His curls were sticking out.

“You flatter me,” Sif said.

“So you will return to the party?”

She sighed, “I’m tired, Loki. It’s not as easy as you would think keeping you and Thor out of trouble.”

He shifted them and she found herself leaning on him as he leaned against the wall. His eyes took her in, his fingers brushed her temples. “And I thank you do every day. Have I ever told you I find that you are exemplary at your job?”

“Oh, you really do want me go back into the room,” she laughed, pressing a open mouth kiss to his neck. He shivered and Sif smiled.

“The night would be lost without you there.” He leaned down and took her lips in a slow kiss she knew was meant to soften her, make her malleable to his charms. Sif knew she would be in trouble if he knew that she already was.

When he pulled back she saw that the burst of lust had faded from his eyes settling them in a warmer much more dangerous emotion she feared to catalogue that in a blink was gone. It would be unwise for her to think too much on any soft emotion between them. However it made her feel twitchy at the idea that he thought the same.

“Sif?”

She pulled away, smoothing her hand over dress and hair. She’d have to stop at the washroom to make sure it didn’t look like Loki’s fingers had been tangled in it minutes before.

“You have convinced me,” she grinned, her teeth flashing, “But only on account that you save me from any dance Volstagg tries to drag me into.”

Loki looked at her, silent and considering, for a second too long before he reached out curled a wild lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed the shell of her ear. His mouth opened to say something and for some reason she could not explain she knew she didn't’ want to listen to it.

“And,” she continued on, “I’d like a foot massage later on.”

The sentence hung in the air, heavy and awkward for a second, before Loki picked it up.

“It would be the least I could do,” he smiled. It was familiar and yet it made her feel uneasy. “Now, you should go on ahead. I’ll be in a few minutes.”

Sif nodded and walked away suddenly feeling like somewhere in those last few seconds she lost the ground she had meant to gain. She walked by one of the large mirrors that hung in the corridors and did a quick assessment on her apperance. Save the flush on the cheeks that was already fading she looked acceptable enough. Pausing to smooth out her hair and straighten the drape of her dress’ neckline she stared at herself in the mirror wondering why she felt as uneasy as she did.

Loki and her had an understanding to what this relationship was and had to be. Otherwise it would be too complicated for either of them.

Walking into the ballroom she glanced around to note that he was still not back. He wouldn’t be for at least another two minutes. Spotting Thor and Fandral in the far side of the room and she made her way towards them. They welcomed her back with smiles and some wine. When asked what she had missed Thor started in on a story about Balder and his unfortunate dancing skills. Sif listened with half her attention so used to Thor’s voice that she knew just when to laugh or scoff by instinct. The rest of her attention was on the ballroom’s doors.

Two minutes later down to the second Loki walked in and made his way to his mother who was talking to some members of the court. She had known he would not come immediately to her or his brother. Loki was always the more diplomatic son, his quips and smiles—

The hand Sif held her wine glass which had been half way to lips her froze. She suddenly felt like the air had been sucked out the room.

Loki’s smiles. They could range from the cold to the mischievous to the shy. She knew them all. She even had favourites, but the ones she disliked the most were the plastic, indulging one he gave at these things. So smooth and indulging.

Too much like the one he had given her out in their darken hall. Her eyes narrowed on where he was talking animately with his mother and some ladies. Loki Silvertongue indeed.

Suddenly she had half the mind to stalk across the room and pull his face to hers and demand how he dared smile at her like she was one of the many people that filtered out of his mind without a second thought? Like she was just anybody?

Her fingers clenched on the glass.

Then as if he knew she was looking at him, he looked up and met her eyes. Even from across the room she could feel the heat in his gaze. One delicate eyebrow raised as if to ask her what was wrong and she did not know what her face showed that made him smirk. She scowled. His smirk turned into a smile.

“Sif, are you all right? You look flushed.” She heard Thor ask from her side.

Schooling her face, she turned and smiled at her friend. “Just fine. The night is catching up with me. It’s been a long day.”


End file.
